Frenzy
by AngelicToxin
Summary: “Foot! First my eye, now my foot. Ow!” Singing card opening, grapefruit analogies, lingerie exploration and minor toy injuries abound. Implied slash, numerous pairings.


**Title: **Frenzy

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Singing card opening, grapefruit analogies, lingerie exploration and minor toy injuries abound. "Ick. That one just sounded like a cat being murdered with an electric knife." Implied slash.

**Author's Note: **Ah, the joys of the imaginative mind. This work was a collaboration of AngelicToxin and Miniola and is brought to you by the makers of Skittles. It started out as the concept for a rather short but humorous one-shot…it grew. A lot. Minor cursing involved, as is slight… sexual innuendo. Implied pairings include Sprace, Blush, Javid, and Sputchy. Enjoy. We did.

**Frenzy**

"Jack, what is _this_?"

Jack looked over. "I dunno, Davey. I think it's a dress thing that they wear to bed."

"They sleep in dresses?"

"It's skimpy." Jack shrugged; David put the slip back on the rack.

"How do you know that?"

"I'm just blessed like that, I guess," Jack quipped, smirking suggestively. David raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to ask," he mused.

"You don't have to; just ask your sister." Jack snickered. David shook his head, his face contorting into a look of disgust.

"Ew."

Jack wiggled his tongue suggestively. David nonchalantly pretended to not recognize Jack, as a mother passed with her small child, looking scandalized.

"Jack, we are in public."

"Could've fooled me," Jack replied, smirking slightly. "You would think that people's undergarments wouldn't be displayed so openly."

"Jack," David sighed. "You know what I meant."

"Of course I do. I know everything." Jack cocked his head impressively, as if asking for a challenge. "I am the sex god."

David coughed. "More like the sex fairy."

"No, my friend," Jack said, patting David's shoulder in a patronizing manner. "That would be Spot."

David let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like "fairy." Jack scowled.

"Take's one to know one."

"Okay Princess Sex, what's _this _then?"

"That, my friend," Jack said, looking at the mis-shelved box of tampons, "You don't want to know."

* * *

"OOH! Let's see what this one says!" A hyperactive Dutchy grabbed another card from the shelf. Specs squirmed.

"Dutchy, is anyone we know actually having a birthday?"

"Race's is coming up!"

"…In seven months." Dutchy ignored this comment, and opened the card, which greeted him with the distorted sounds of "All Star." Specs made a face and Dutchy hurriedly closed the card.

"I don't think that's a birthday card."

"Good thing we have lots of time to find one for Race," Specs replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Valid point. Unchallenged." Dutchy scanned the row of cards. Grabbing another card, he examined it carefully. "This one says 'Birthday greetings for an old friend.' I think it relates to birthdays."

"Dutchy, Race isn't _old_."

"And now you have _no _point." Dutchy opened the red card; the chords of "Staying Alive" blared out through the tinny speaker. Reopening to start the song over again, Dutchy started dancing, waving his arms in random patterns. Specs didn't view it as dancing.

"Dutch. People are starting to stare."

In response, Dutchy grabbed one of Specs' hands and pulled him away from the rack on which he was leaning. "It's fun! And better yet- it's _free!_"

"I'm not broke," Specs replied in a form of protest. "I have a _job_, from which I earn money."

"Oh." Dutchy looked thoughtful, momentarily ceasing his efforts to make Specs dance. "I need a haircut."

"Actually…" Specs trailed off, realizing that he had nothing to add to that train of thought. Dutchy started dancing again. In a vain attempt to get him to stop, Specs added, "Which one next?"

In response, Dutchy reopened the same card.

"Dutch, are you drugs?"

* * *

"Blink! Look at this, Blink! It's so cool!! Look at me! No hands!" Blink barely had time to turn around before his right foot was run over by the misshapen bicycle Mush was riding through the aisle. Grabbing it in pain, he scowled.

"Foot! First my eye, now my _foot_. Ow!"

Mush braked the bike quickly, narrowly avoiding the rack of rubber balls. Turning in his seat, he looked at Blink in sincere concern and slight indignation. "I didn't do anything to your eye!"

"Foot! Foot!" Blink hopped lopsidedly toward the nearest shelf, on which boxes and boxes of Barbies rested. He was momentarily distracted from his pain. "Since when does Barbie wear fishnets?"

"Barbie wears fishnets?!" Mush looked at his friend curiously for a moment before his attention was drawn to the toddler's toys nearest him. "Hey, do these things actually sing when you push the buttons?"

Proceeding to push the multi-colored buttons on the toys, Mush's face lit up when they flashed various colors. Blink sighed.

"Once a toddler, always a toddler, I guess." He gingerly made his way over to his childish friend, who was now complaining.

"Blinkee! This one doesn't light up! It said it should!" Mush stamped his foot. "False advertising! False advertising!"

"Maybe the battery's dead," Blink suggested; Mush's eyes widened.

"These things run on batteries? I thought it was magic!"

* * *

"Hey, Race!" Spot wandered around the end of the aisle, holding two grapefruits in his hands. Marching up to the Italian, he pressed the fruits unceremoniously against Race's chest. He leaned back to admire his handiwork. "I dunno. The left one looks a little bigger than the right."

"Uh, Spot?" Race eyed his friend in a mixture of shock, disgust and amusement, slightly concerned for his mental health.

"Don't worry," Spot assured him. "I brought a banana for myself."

Race just walked away. Spot followed him, dumping the grapefruit into the nearest apple bin, and unpeeling the banana. After they'd wound their way past the onions and celery, Race finally turned to acknowledge him.

"You do realize you're eating your own banana right?" Spot shrugged.

"Wanna bite?" he asked, offering the half-eaten fruit to Race, who shook his head rapidly.

"You have to pay for that, you know."

"Sure. That's why I brought you."

"I'm broke." Race snorted. "Unlike Specs, I don't have a job."

"In other words, you really are no better then I am. You're even less. Because _I_ have a banana."

Before Race could respond, they were stopped by a man in a blue vest; one could only assume he was an employee, because in Spot's opinion anyone who would dress like that in public… wouldn't actually go out in public.

"Did you pay for that banana, sir?" Spot looked affronted.

"Of course." He shoved the rest into his mouth. "Oohwanbite?"

Race looked at him in disgust. "Say it, don't spray it."

Spot swallowed. "I _was_ offering our friend a bite, but that is now physically impossible unless you have several very sharp surgical tools on hand."

The employee walked away discreetly, deciding that it wasn't worth the time or effort to deal with the delinquents. Spot threw the banana peel after him.

"I knew my banana was too good for that guy."

"We really shouldn't be at Wal-Mart. We should be at a therapist."

"Did you know that therapists are the rapists squished together."

Race did a double-take. "What? Actually, I don't want to know. Where's the candy section?"

* * *

"Do women always put their socks and underwear right next to each other?" David and Jack surveyed the surrounding aisles.

"For once, I really don't know." They stood in silence for a couple minutes, until David got distracted…again.

"There's a saleslady. Should we ask her?" he asked Jack, indicating the elderly lady at the end of the row. Jack stared at him in horror.

"Are you serious?" Jack inquired. David's face revealed nothing as he turned towards Jack.

"Come on, let's ask her." He started walking towards the lady, and "Excuse me, ma'am?" ready at his lips. Jack abruptly halted his progress.

"Davey!" he hissed, his eyes flashing in slight shock.

"What? You're shopping for your girlfriend, right?" David asked.

"Uh, David, I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh." David's face showed pleasant surprise as he nodded in a slightly sarcastic manner. "Boyfriend?"

"David!" Jack looked around as if confirming that there were no eves droppers in the vicinity. "We're in the _women's section_." Jack pronounced the words as if they were some sort of communicable disease.

"You're point would be?" David's serious expression confused Jack even more. He had no response to that. Luckily, David spotted something on a rack nearby- something hot pink, black, and… lacy.

"Hey, Jack." He motioned towards the clothing piece. "You think we should get this for Spot?"

* * *

"Ick. That one just sounded like a cat being murdered with an electric knife." Dutchy hastily returned the card to its place on the shelf.

"Okay, Dutch. Two things. First, that's horribly gruesome and second-" Specs gestured wildly, punctuating every word with a poke to Dutchy's chest. "Every time. You open one of those cards. Some poor helpless kitten. Get's _fucking killed!_"

Dutchy froze, gasping audibly. "Really? That's horrible!"

"It's true. And that knife used to murder that cat you heard…it's used every single time!" Specs felt bad about manipulating his friend, but he was sick of the weird looks that he and Dutchy were getting from passersby. Dutchy looked much like a fish out of water, searching for something to replace his previous form of amusement.

"I know!" Dutchy's eyes lit up behind his thin frames. "Let's go look at Tupperware!"

Dragging Specs along behind him, he flounced towards the kitchen section. Once there, he immediately grabbed two bowls from the shelf.

"Which one do you think we should get?" he asked Specs, a distinctly feminine edge to his voice.

Specs replied wearily, "You don't need any Tupperware, Dutchy. And neither do I."

"I think this one goes best with my complexion," Dutchy said flamboyantly, indicating the bowl in his right hand. "But this one definitely matches your skin better."

"Dutch, that bowl is blue."

"You seem to be making a lot of irrelevant and rather pointless points." Dutchy seemed to be regarding the two bowls carefully.

"Dutch, a pointless point is nonexistent."

Disregarding this observation, Dutchy nodded his head. "You know, I think I like the red one better. It matches my glasses!"

Specs sighed. "Your glasses aren't red."

"Pointless point! Pointless point!"

* * *

"Who would know that these things would guess things like 'cheese' and 'glass'?" Mush asked indignantly. But Blink was already moving away from the 20-Questions games, a victorious smile playing around his lips.

"Mush, I bet I can beat you at this one too!" Blink tossed a hand-held Yahtzee game towards Mush; Mush failed to catch the device, being caught unawares. It hit him squarely in the face.

He staggered mockingly. "Eye! First my foot, then my _eye_! Ow!" Blink stared at him.

"I didn't… do anything to your… foot."

"Eye! Eye!" Blink caught on, and smacked him sharply on the back of the head.

"Just play the damn game."

"I dunno," Mush said in a falsely worried tone. "You might have an advantage. I can only see out of one eye."

Blink threw another game at him in response. Mush took a few steps backwards, again, unprepared for the (in his opinion, unwarranted) attack.

"Okay! No eyes!"

Blink snickered. "Looking for an excuse not to get your ass kicked again?"

Mush scowled, pushing a button on the portable game.

"You're on."

A few minutes later, Blink was once again smiling, Mush beating his game against the metal shelf, muttering incoherently.

"Stupid…worthless…game." He turned on Blink. "You cheated!"

"How did I cheat?" Pause.

"Cheater!"

"Uh huh." Blink calmly placed the game back in its rightful place. "I cheated how?"

"You damaged my brain!"

"Right."

Mush's face turned curiously blank as he regarded his best friend. "Do I know you?"

"Apparently not." Blink rolled his eye. "I'm going to go check out the… stuffed… puppies."

As if his brain damage had been miraculously cured, Mush's eyes lit up.

"Puppies?!"

* * *

Spot's inner child had come to the surface when he and Race discovered the candy section, cleverly hidden between the bread and frozen food aisles. Spot grabbed an oversized lollipop off the shelf and turned to Race.

"Wanna know what this reminds me of?" His words spoken a bit too excitedly for Race's liking, the Italian shook his head rapidly.

"Uh, no."

"How about this?" Spot asked, tossing the lollipop aside into a random person's passing cart, and replacing it with a box of Sugar Daddys.

"Rather not know." Race leant back against the shelf, carefully shielding the taffy from Spot's view. He didn't even want to think about how those would be viewed by the rather perverted boy exploring the shelves across from him.

"How about… these?" Spot turned back to face Race, wielding a large bag of Skittles. Forgetting about his attempts to stifle Spot's… imaginative mind, Race jumped forward.

"Gimme!" Spot held them just out of his reach.

"Come on! Jump!"

"Fuck you, Spot." Race scowled, swiping at the bag.

"Well, we are in the candy section," Spot replied deviantly. Race made another grab for the Skittles, before realizing that they _were_ in a supermarket, and that there were many other bags of Skittles lurking behind Spot's taunting form. Spot, however, was distracted by the items in the frozen food shelves across the aisle.

"Popsicles!" he crowed.

* * *

Smirking, Jack steered David into one of the checkout lanes; he'd forced the quieter boy to hold the frilly top. As they shuffled behind a man carrying only a few Tupperware containers, David muttered offhandedly,

"Dutchy would be proud."

"What?" Jack looked at him, tearing his eyes from the pictures of scantily-clad models on the cover of a magazine.

"Er, nothing." David didn't want to expose any more of Dutchy's somewhat odd habits than was necessary.

"Right. Well, I was thinking—" Jack started, but David interrupted.

"Oh, that's a first." Jack gave him a firm thump on the side of the head- Jack didn't smack people- he thumped them.

"Can it, Davey. Anyways," He lifted up the hem of the shirt by two fingers. "You think we should get one for Race too?"

"For… Race?" David looked at Jack blankly.

"I was thinking green- light green, of course- to match his eyes."

"Jack," David glanced over the lace edges again. "Race's eyes aren't green."

"I know." Jack looked at the long line in front of them. "But brown and green compliment each other."

David smirked. "That's a very feminine observation."

"Har har." Jack slid out of line. "I'll be right back."

David refused to admit that Jack had actually gone back to get a green one, but when Jack returned, he could no longer deny this fact.

"Oh. My. God." David looked at the new piece in horror. "It's so much… frillier."

Jack nodded, looking proud of himself. "It's nothing but lace. I even asked that lady to help me out."

"You didn't."

"Oh, I did." Jack looked proud of himself. "I thought it'd compliment his figure."

"His… figure?" David asked weakly.

"You know," Jack rubbed his hands across his chest. "His fiiiiigggguuuuuurrrrreeee."

A small girl in line behind them promptly left. David blanched.

"You're on crack."

"You wish you were."

* * *

Specs tried not to nod off as Dutchy examined more of the Tupperware. He found this approach to his friend's odd ways much easier then doing anything about it; until Dutchy started holding random pieces up to his face to try and find his perfect compliment color. Suddenly, Specs perked up.

"Hey, Dutch. You said something about a haircut?" Dutchy took the bait.

"Yeah! My mom's complaining about how it's too long, and I really just want to like, shave it off!"

"That might be a bit drastic, darling," Specs said affectionately, stroking the blond's exceedingly long locks.

"Hmmm… not pointless point!" Dutchy began to examine his nails. "You think I could get my nails done as well?"

"Nails?"

"Oh, you know." Dutchy gave Specs a friendly nudge on the shoulder. "As in, mani, maybe pedi?"

Specs shook his head slowly. He didn't know any other male friends who would openly refer to a manicure as a "mani." Dutchy really was something else. But in response, he merely shrugged.

"We'll see."

"But I wannnnnt one!"

"I can give you one! Just not… here. Of course." Specs winced inwardly, realizing that anyone like Spot would have immediately taken that line out of context. Sometimes, it was better that Dutchy was Dutchy.

"Ooh! We can do each other!" Dutchy exclaimed. Specs stifled a snort, and sped up, leading his friend towards the front of the store.

"Suuuure. Just… not here."

"Duh! I don't have my stuff with me!" Dutchy suddenly looked excited, oblivious to the rather obvious other implications of his words. "You should get your hair done!"

"Done?"

"You know, faux-hawk style."

Specs grimaced. "Why not just Mohawk?" Hastily, he added, "But I don't want to get a new hair-do. I like being plain Specs."

"Because Mohawks are out of style. And plain Specs is not Mohawk-Specs. Plain Specs is just… plain."

"I like plain."

"Fine. Maybe we can get some stick-on rhinestones for your glasses."

"Maybe."

"But I call the dye!"

* * *

Blink examined the assortment of various stuffed puppies. Seeing one he recognized from a TV ad, he grinned mischievously. Picking it up, he turned to Mush.

"Mushee, look at this!" He brandished the black and white puppy at the other boy, who frowned.

"You mean, they're not _real_ puppies?" Mush's voice was a borderline whine, but Blink thought he could detect a hint of sarcasm at the bottom of it. At least, he hoped he could.

"Nah. They'd pee too much. But look!" He held out the toy. "Pull up on the string in its mouth!"

Mush obediently did as he was told, and jumped back with a yelp as the whole dog moved and emitted bark-like noises.

"AH! It moves! Ah!" He reeled backwards, nearly tripping over a bike helmet deposited in the middle of the floor. Blink snickered.

"I guess it's… real!" He shrugged, and Mush stuck out his tongue.

"Jerkface," he muttered under his breath, glancing around to find a way to get revenge. His eyes lit up when they landed on the store's selection of Tickle Me! Elmos. Mush remembered an occasion on Blink's fifth birthday, when he'd given the cyclops boy an Elmo as a present; Blink had promptly shrieked in horror and thrown it out the window.

Mush straightened himself up, and grabbed one off the shelf. "Hey, Blink?"

"Yeah?" Blink was obviously not paying attention; his focus was directed towards the rows of Batman action figures. "Batman's hot."

Mush, disregarding the statement, hoped that Blink was being sarcastic. Batman was good looking; plastic imitations of him were not. Using the other boy's distraction to his advantage, he tossed the Elmo towards Blink.

"Blink!"

Slightly more adept then Mush, Blink caught the toy. The next second it was on the floor, and Blink was shouting in slight horror. Mush started laughing. Blink had a murderous look on his face.

"I will kill you, Mush Meyers."

"You can kill me, but not Elmo? Gee, Blink, I'm touched." Mush put his hand over his heart in a show of fake emotion.

"Be nice to me." Blink stuck out his tongue. "I won't buy you anything otherwise."

* * *

Race stared as Spot ripped open the package of popsicles.

"You must be in some weird religion that forbids actually paying for things. Maybe a reverse-Christian-type-thing. Where stealing isn't a sin?" Spot gave him the finger.

"Grape… orange… cherry!" Spot pulled a red popsicle out of it's wrapper. Race averted his eyes as Spot began to suck suggestively on the treat. Spot continued to talk in a minute, once he'd begun to chew on the frozen food instead. Race pulled a face.

"See, I had to pick red, because you look best in red. You're not a very purple person," Spot grinned as Race expertly used his middle finger.

"You mean I'm not a person that purple looks good on."

"That too. But you're not purple either." Spot shrugged. "Popsicle?"

"I'd rather not. Watching you has put me off popsicles for life." As Race spoke, Spot licked a running drip off of his arm.

"Damn." Spot resumed licking the popsicle. "I thought that seeing me would turn you on."

"Blatant gayness. In Wal-Mart. Gee, how could I restrain myself?" Race asked sarcastically.

"Works for some of us."

"I have to go get some… bread. For dinner."

"You're family's Italian," Spot said, tossing aside the popsicle stick and searching for another purple one. "Can't you just like, make the bread?"

"I'm not… Italian." Race blinked at the obvious lie. Spot smirked.

"I always knew you were secretly a Mexican."

"Asshole."

"Me quiero Taco Bell, too. Enchiladaaaaaaaaas!" Spot was beginning to feel the sugar kick in. As he was starting in on his second popsicle, the same employee (who was wearing a tag dubbing him "Eddy") walked by.

"Did you pay for—" Spot made circular motions around the tip of the popsicle with his tongue. "Nevermind."

Spot smirked as Eddy stalked off again.

"Thought so." He turned to Race. "Where to next?"

"The front."

"Why?"

"So I can actually pay for my food."

"You pay?"

* * *

Jack and David were waiting at Specs' van when Spot, Race, Blink and Mush arrived. The first thing any of the four noted was that a very un-David-like smirk was adorning David's face.

"What the hell is up with fuck-face here?" Spot asked Jack blatantly. Jack merely smirked.

"We wanted to wait for Specs and Dutchy to get back, but I figure that only one of them would fully appreciate the beauty of our work." Race nodded.

"Dutchy."

"No." Race raised an eyebrow, and David spoke up.

"We wanted to get them gift-wrapped, but there's no holiday for us to use as an excuse." They all looked at him blankly. Jack pulled two bags from behind his back. Briefly glancing into one of them, he handed one each to Spot and Race. Spot opened his in a rush.

"What the fuck is it?"

"It's for your…. sexual adventures."

"You expect me to wear it?" Spot threw the lacy top back into the bag and aimed for Jack's head.

"Race does." Jack snickered, looking at Race expectantly. Hesitantly, Race opened his.

"It's… green."

"To match the color of your eyes," David supplied.

"Apparently Spot thinks they're purple and that I'm a big walking Barney."

"Huh?" David looked at him blankly.

"Nevermind. But why is mine like, so much more feminine then Spot's?" In some ways, Race was insulted. This made it twice that he had been shunted into the female half of the relationship. David grinned as he spoke.

"Jack thought it would compliment your… figure." Race's eyes widened, and threw the shirt at David.

"He did not."

"Actually, he said, figgggggguuuuurrrrrrreeeeeeee." David repeated Jack's actions, and Spot smacked Jack.

"I'm the only one allowed to say things like that."

"Because you're gay?" Jack asked.

"Because I have the best figure here." Spot grabbed the green shirt and, ignoring all the onlookers, pulled it over his head. "Fits like a dream."

Blink shook his head in amazement. "Only you, Spot. Only you."

"And Dutchy," Spot added, now admiring himself in the side-view mirrors. Blink rolled his eye.

"I think we might've undersized him," Jack put in. "That shirt looks a bit… tight?"

David shook his head. "I think that rip is supposed to be there."

Spot turned to Blink and Mush. "What's up with the enormous load of shit-filled bags?"

"It is _not_ shit, shit-headed crossdresser," Blink put in.

"They're _toys_!" Mush looked as if Christmas had come months early.

"As I said…" Spot pulled a Kleenex out of his pocket, and began to move it towards his shirt. Race yanked it out of his hand.

"Don't even."

"But I'd be so preeeetty." Spot fluttered his eyelashes. Race gagged. David, ignoring the scene pointedly, looked towards Blink and Mush.

"Early Christmas shopping?"

"Uh, no." Blink pulled a Barbie out of one bag. "This is for you, Jack. It's the closest thing you're ever gonna get to a fish-net clad, blonde, huge-chested girl."

Jack chucked it at Blink's head. Blink caught it easily, stuffing it back in the bag.

"Fine," Mush pointed out, "We'll keep it then."

"_You_ will keep it," Blink said pointedly. Looking around, he added, "Where's Dutch and Specs?"

As if on cue, Dutchy popped out from behind the van.

"Boo!"

Everyone did a double-take. Dutchy's usually near-white hair was stained with blotches of brilliant red. Specs came around the front of the van, sniggering.

"Specs? What the hell happened to him?" Blink stared openly. Spot added his opinion.

"Yeah. What died and bled all over his head?"

"According to Specs," Dutchy began. "It was a poor kitten."

"Damn those beasts," Spot muttered. Mush stared.

"Please tell me you're joking. I've had enough shocks regarding animals today as it is."

Specs shrugged. "I don't think the lady knew what she was doing with the dye."

"I dunno. Maybe she was just exercising her artistic license," said David.

"You should just shave it off; I'm sure you could use it to get PETA to sue Wal-Mart," Spot offered, louder then before. Specs turned towards him for the first time.

"Spot." He blinked. There wasn't anything else to say.

"Fuck off, Specs. You're just jealous."

"Hard as it is to believe, I don't think I am." Specs gestured around them. "Though the huge amounts of gaping are something to be admired."

"I'm jealous!" Dutchy put forward. Jack rolled his eyes.

"Freaks."

Mush glanced at Blink, a twinkle in his eye.

"Dutch!" Dutchy turned. "I gotcha a puppy!"

"A real one?" Dutchy clapped his hands.

"Nah. They were all killed to dye your hair," Spot said. Mush glared at him.

"It's not real. But I think you'll like it."

Dutchy held out his hands. Mush pulled the black and white toy from the bag. Offering it to Dutchy, he added,

"Go ahead. Play with the rope." Dutchy pulled up. The toy moved responsibly.

"AH! It moves! SCARY!"

* * *

T: This story was not based on real events. Promise.

M: Especially not real events occurring in the toy section and involving certain plush puppies. shakes head That would be ridiculous.

T: I wasn't the one who got freaked out by the moving dog.

M: It moved! It was SCARY. Leavemealone. You didn't even try out that bike. It was fun grin.

T: No, I was too busy staring at the guys in the lingerie department. SEX FAIRIES

M: giggle I won at Yahtzee, in case you're wondering. Twice! wins And also, these events couldn't have inspired this fic, because it did not involve any GIGANTIC bags of skittles being carried around said toy section.

T: CHEATER! MY EYE!

M: I didn't cheat! I was eating Skittles!

T: MY FOOT! EYE! OW! toddles off

M: Please note: We are not on drugs. We are on Skittles. Did you notice a pattern here? Skittles, Skittles Skittles… wanders away also

T: pops up Bonus points to anyone who caught the fact that Christian Bale is Batman and Blink was talking about how hot he was. snickers

M: We're just going to go now. For real this time. I swear. (Eye! Eye! Ow!)


End file.
